Giving Thanks
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: Family makes the holidays worth it. Mac and Reed.
1. Chapter 1

**Giving Thanks**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

Water ran over little hands as the boy scrubbed under his fingernails, between his fingers, over his palms just as he had been told hundreds of times. He turned off the faucet and grabbed at the towel to dry them. The sink was dirty from his hands now, and he grimaced. What was the point to cleaning it now?

"Mac!"

He wrinkled his nose as he threw down the towel. There wasn't any time to clean it even if he wanted, which he was rather thankful for. It could wait until later.

"Mac!" his mother called again, and the boy shut the bathroom door as he raced into the kitchen. She balanced three bowls in her arms, trying to work out a way to set them down on the counter. Ruth Taylor was a conventionally pretty woman: she had thick, brown hair and dark green eyes. Her dress hid an average, rather boyish body. "Think you could help me?" she asked when she spotted him enter the kitchen.

Mac grabbed a bowl from the crook of her arm and put it down. When her hands were free, she ruffled his hair. "Thanks, sweetie."

He smiled. "Need any more help?"

Ruth looked around the kitchen. "Sure. Would you set the table?"

Mac nodded as he reached over the counter to grab the plates. They were set in a stack, the napkins and silverware on the plates in order. It was typical of her to set them like that, all prepared to go. Mac grinned as he walked off to the table.

His family seemed to enjoy entertaining parties of people on Thanksgiving. Usually, there were two tables set out: the one for children and one for the adults. Mac looked at the single table and smiled to himself. It was the unwritten rule that no one could sit at the adult table until they were thirteen, and now there was _just_ the adult table. He quietly counted the chairs and the plates: six.

Mac could figure out who the last three were: grandparents. His smile widened as he put the places out. He concentrated on the silverware, making sure it was straight. As Mac bent to get at an eyelevel to the table to make sure of it, he felt someone behind him.

The smell of cigarette smoke told him who it was. "Hey, Dad."

"Turning into your mother," was Frank's only reply. He put a hand against Mac's shoulder. "You should come with me to get your grandparents. Don't want you turning into a girl when I'm gone."

Mac laughed. It was his father's common joke. "Okay." He tilted the fork, failing to straighten it before he followed Frank into the living room. Frank held Mac's coat out, which Mac took and quickly put on and buttoned. The city was cold even this early into winter. A light rain drizzled against the house as Frank opened the door and let Mac out, and the old car was wet as they grabbed the handles to open the doors. Mac jumped into the backseat quickly, trying not to get too wet.

"I like it when it rains," Mac said, watching the steady stream of water down the windows as he buckled his seatbelt.

"Blocks the roads," Frank grumbled. "That's the one thing I hate about it. Too many accidents."

Mac nodded and remained silent. Frank turned on the ignition, letting the car roar noisily to life, then fall to a quieter background noise before he pulled out of the driveway.

"Don't tell your mom I told you to come." Frank winked into the rearview mirror. "Don't want her to know it's my fault the table isn't completely set. If she asks, you wanted to come."

"I did," Mac answered.

"That's right." Frank smiled. "Besides, you need to learn the rules of Thanksgiving."

Mac raised his eyebrows in interest.

"The women cook and set the table. The men watch parades and pick up grumbling relatives." Frank smiled and reached into the passenger's seat to grab a carton of cigarettes. He managed to shove them into his pocket without taking his eyes off the road. "This? This is what we should be doing."

Mac nodded and turned to look back out the window. He could see himself framed in the window, a light reflection from the dim sun. He watched his eyes move up and down with the streaks of rain.

"And that's why you can't call men lazy," Frank continued. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't be picking them up." He looked into the rearview mirror to see Mac's expressionless face. "Would you honestly go out of your way to get Grandma Mary here?"

Mac laughed. Grandma Mary was an ancient woman, her hands withered and wasted. She spent half of her life smoking and the other complaining as she sewed. No one had ever seen a single thing she sewed. Whenever Mac tried to lean over her shoulder to see what she was working on, she turned it over and pressed a hand against the back of the design, telling him to mind his own business. She never gave out presents with any sewing nor hung any around her house.

"Think your mother would notice if we left her behind?" Frank asked.

Mac laughed even harder. "Mom can't like her, can she?"

Frank grinned. Mac could only see the sides of his cheeks move from where he sat. "You'd be surprised how strange of people your mother can like. She married me, didn't she?"

Mac tried to stifle his laughter. "You aren't like Grandma Mary, though!"

"Thankfully," Frank answered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cigarette carton as they pulled up to the sidewalk outside of the airport. He took one out, then a lighter and cupped his hands around it. Mac looked back out the window.

"Let's give 'em a few minutes," Frank said, leaning back in his seat. "You know how slow they are." He looked over the shoulder of his seat to smile at Mac, who smiled back.

"Know what, though?" Frank put his arm around the headrest as he spoke. "Thanksgiving is worthless without family. Same with every other holiday. Would you rather be at a party with exciting people or at home with Aunt Mary?" He paused. "Maybe not Aunt Mary specifically, though."

_(Giving Thanks)_

Mac stood outside of the building, glancing at his watch. It was just after three on the day after Thanksgiving. Good enough time. He knocked.

It took a moment for the door to open. The familiar brown-haired face answered, hesitating before he smiled.

"You're back," Reed said simply. He blinked at Mac. It had been two days since they last saw each other when Mac had been called off on a case as he spoke to Reed.

"Hey." Mac put his hands in his pockets. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving." Reed still looked confused. "Your case go alright?"

"It -" Mac hesitated. "No."

Reed nodded and seemed to understand Mac's expression. "Are we still up for lunch, then?"

Mac smiled. "Not quite. I was on the case all day yesterday, so I'm calling today Thanksgiving."

Reed nodded with a smile. "Fun."

Mac's smile widened. "You free today?"

"Yeah. Sure. One second." Reed shut the door partway, grabbing his coat, then reopened it. "Mr. Tay- Mac?"

Mac watched Reed close the door after him, then nodded.

"Thanks," Reed said quietly. He pulled the envelope Mac had given him two days earlier from his pocket. He held it out. "I - I've never seen her before."

Mac looked at the wrinkled envelope with the pictures of Claire inside. He hadn't kept any of her things through the years except the handful of pictures around the apartment. He knew them well, their images imprinted in his mind after years of looking at them.

"Keep them," Mac said slowly.

Reed's hand shook but didn't retreat. "But -"

"You've never seen her." Mac gave him a sad smile. "Keep them. You need them more than I do."

Reed hesitated, then opened the envelope. He pulled out the pictures and thumbed through them quickly. He finally pulled one of them out of the stack and replaced the rest before holding the envelope out again.

"Could I just have the one?" Reed looked down at it, and Mac could see part of it. It was an old picture, one of Claire sitting on a bench in Central Park. Her brown hair curled around her face, messy because of the wind and the rain that had just passed. She had on a dress, one with a white and blue pattern. She had rarely worn dresses, Mac remembered, and she spent half the day complaining about it.

Mac nodded and took the envelope with a smile. He put it in his pocket. "Sure." They started walking down the street.

"Where're we going?" Reed asked, looking away. He still held the picture in his hand.

Mac shrugged. "Ever had an Italian Thanksgiving?" Reed shook his head, and Mac grinned. "Neither have I."

Reed smiled, then gave the picture one last look before putting it in his pocket.

Mac felt his jaw tighten for a second. "Let me tell you about the day we took that picture."

Reed glanced at Mac quickly.

Mac took a deep breath as he tried to remember the morning. "It was early in September. There had been some opening. An art gallery or a store, I think. She was excited for it, dressed up. Couldn't stand the outside. Sure enough, we were two hours early for it, so we headed to Central Park to grab some hotdogs…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Giving Thanks**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

The restaurant was only a few blocks away. Mac continued his story as they walked, trying to fit in every detail of the day he could remember. It was hard. The details he did remember felt too raw to mention, but he forced himself through it.

As Mac finished the story, he glanced down at Reed. Reed stared at the sidewalk with a rapt attention that Mac knew was faked only to stop Mac from noticing his expression.

Even Reed's presence reminded him painfully of Claire. Reed took long but slow strides, his heels making a pronounced clap against the pavement. Claire had walked like that when she wore boots, and Mac tried to hide his smile.

His phone rang, and Mac sighed as he picked it out of his pocket.

"Have to go again?" Reed asked, stopping beside Mac. Mac was surprised to see he looked disappointed.

Checking the number, Mac smiled. "Maybe not." He answered it. "Taylor."

"You already know my number. Don't see why you still answer like that," Stella said.

"It's my work phone," Mac answered simply. "What's going on?"

"I heard it's your day off." There was a small pause. "I was wondering if you wanted to have a late Thanksgiving with me."

Mac smiled and glanced at Reed. "One second." He covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Reed?"

Reed raised his eyebrows.

Mac studied the teenager for a moment. "How would you feel about bringing along one of my friends? You've met her."

His face took on a slight look of shock and confusion, but Reed nodded. "Sure. Anything you want."

Mac uncovered the mouth piece. "Stella?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm heading out to dinner with someone. Care to join?"

"Oh." Stella paused again. "Who?"

Mac glanced back at Reed and smiled. "Reed."

He could practically hear the smile form on Stella's lips. "Tell me where you are."

_(Giving Thanks)_

Mac studied the menu as he watched Reed. The teenager's eyes were fixed on the menu, though they occasionally flicked up to meet Mac's.

"Mac?" Reed paused as he played with the corner of the menu. Mac looked up. "Thanks again. For all this, I mean. I - I guess I came off as ungrateful -"

Smiling, Mac folded his menu and leaned forward. "Like I said before, I didn't start this for myself or for you. Your mother - Claire would have wanted this. She…" Mac clasped his hands together under his chin. "She always loved introducing people. They always seemed to be the strangest couples, but she always knew that they would get along."

Reed smiled. "This is her way of getting us to meet?"

"I suppose so." Mac picked up his menu again, though he didn't look at it. "Though… after I first met you… there was still something that told me it would help the both of us."

He noticed Reed's hands touch his pocket, and Mac remembered the pictures with a smile. Mac didn't comment, though, as he looked up at the door. Someone was entering, and it didn't take him long to realize it was Stella. Stella glanced around before noticing them.

Stella neared their table and pulled off her coat. "Hey."

"Hey," Mac answered as Reed smiled nervously.

"I haven't seen you lately." Stella stuck out her hand to Reed. He shook it. "I'm Stella."

"I remember you." Reed's smile still seemed nervous and forced. Mac watched the two of them. "I'm sorry about the -"

Stella smiled. "Don't be. Trust me, it was a relief to know it was you. Though, my advice is…" She leaned in as though about to tell him a secret. "If you want to follow someone unnoticed, don't wear yellow."

Reed grinned. "Hope I don't need to follow anyone anytime soon."

"Well, if I had noticed you sooner, you wouldn't have had to follow me in the first place." Stella smiled and glanced at the menu. "Sorry for being late, Mac."

Mac shook his head. "Neither of us have ordered or even found anything. Take your time."

Stella smiled as she opened her menu. "That's good."

Reed looked up once more. "Could I ask a question?"

Both Mac and Stella looked up and exchanged a quick look. "Sure," Mac answered. "Anything you want."

"When… when I was following you…" He looked at Stella. "Well, I saw you at Mac's a few times, and then I saw another woman a couple times. I had just assumed my mom - well, you and Mac were divorced or that the other woman was a relative or something." Reed shrugged. "Well, what I mean is, are you two…?"

"No," Mac said quickly. "We've been friends for years. Worked together for just as long."

"It was Mac's birthday," Stella added. "I had a present for him on one day. Went over another time to invite him out for a birthday dinner. Dropped off a few things for work." She glanced sideways at Mac. "The other woman…"

"She's Peyton." Mac looked away from Stella, back to Reed. "She's… she's my girlfriend. Not Stella." He paused for a second. "I was supposed to meet with her yesterday for Thanksgiving, but she's stuck on her shifts until tomorrow."

Stella nodded, her eyebrows raised. "That explains a lot."

Mac glanced at her again. The waiter approached their table, and they ordered their drinks. When he left, Reed looked back at the two of them.

"How long have you know each other?" he asked.

Mac was surprised by the question. He had expected Reed to ask only about Claire, not himself.

"Since ninety-four," Stella answered. "Give or take, really. We worked in the same building without actually knowing each other for a while."

"So you knew my mother." Reed looked down at his hands as he spoke. Mac finally understood his choice of topic. He sat back in his chair, watching them speak.

Stella nodded. "Yeah. Mac introduced us, actually. She was an amazing woman. Always funny and just charming." Stella smiled. "Mac always said he regretted the day he introduced us. The two of us could wipe out a sale in record time and…" She turned to Mac. "What did you always say?"

"I said a lot about you two."

Stella grinned. "True. When you get older, maybe I'll get permission to tell you a few of the stories."

Reed smiled, then looked at Mac.

Mac sighed. "Stella, when you say it like that, it doesn't sound quite right."

"I realized that."

The waiter returned with their drinks a moment later, setting them on the table. Reed put the straw in his mouth, slowly drinking through the side of his mouth. He opened his mouth and hesitated. "Could I hear one now?"

Stella gave Mac another look, one that told him, _This is your life, Mac Taylor. Enjoy listening to it._ Then she looked back at Reed and started. "Not long after we first met… I had only met Claire once by then. Mac invited me over for Christmas…"


End file.
